


Sebastian Hatch and the Consequences of Being Terrible

by tannoreth



Series: DND Fic [9]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), QDND
Genre: Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, technically there is consent but it's definitely consent under duress
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-17
Updated: 2014-03-17
Packaged: 2018-01-16 03:30:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1330279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tannoreth/pseuds/tannoreth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sebastian grinned in success when the lockpick turned and the door swung open. With another quick glance down the hallway, he pushed the door open slowly so it didn’t creak and slipped inside. Across the room, in the glass case where he’d seen it yesterday, was the small silver statue he’d been told to take.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sebastian Hatch and the Consequences of Being Terrible

Sebastian grinned in success when the lockpick turned and the door swung open. With another quick glance down the hallway, he pushed the door open slowly so it didn’t creak and slipped inside. Across the room, in the glass case where he’d seen it yesterday, was the small silver statue he’d been told to take.

He was nearly there when he heard a creak and spun around. The woman from yesterday was standing in the open door, her eyes wide.

“What are you doing back here?” she said. Her expression was rapidly going from surprised to suspicious.

Sebastian thought for a moment. He was standing with his hand outstretched for the statue, in a room that had been locked up until very recently, in a house that he wasn’t supposed to be in. He was definitely fucked.

“I…got lost?” he offered, putting on a crooked smile.

It didn’t work. “I don’t think so,” she said acidly, and grabbed his shoulder and spun him around.

Before he knew it, he was pinned with his chest to the wall, his arms twisted up painfully behind his back so he couldn’t use his strength against her.

“You piece of shit,” she hissed into his ear.

A tingle went down his spine and curled in his belly. What? That had to be fear, right? Surely he wasn’t so desperate that…

“Piece of shit is a strong phrase,” he replied, trying to put on his cocky, confident attitude again.

“Fits you pretty well,” she growled, shoving him harder up against the wall. “I knew your reputation, but I didn’t think you were awful enough to use the fact that I helped you out to come and steal from me.”

“To be fair, I was planning on coming back and stealing from you from the beginning,” he said.

“What kind of a terrible person takes advantage of people like that?”

He winced as she twisted his arms the wrong way. She was a lot stronger than she’d looked. Agreeing to this job was turning out to be a massive fuckup. He’d felt weird about it from the beginning, should’ve known better. He’d never be able to finish the job now, but maybe he could at least fight her off and get out of town before she called the police or worse.

“Someone like me, I guess,” he said, twisting his mouth wryly. “I’m just that terrible.”

Maybe he could talk her down from this. Get her to let him go. Maybe he could somehow knock her off balance and hope she didn’t break his arm…

Except that the more she pushed him up against the wall the harder it was to focus on getting out. Or anything but what the hard wall he was pressed against was making very obvious. He tried not to squirm against it, tried not to move, tried not to breathe.

“You’re goddamn pathetic,” she said, and his cock twitched in response.

Oh no fuck please no. Why was this happening. He shouldn’t be enjoying this. True, he probably deserved to be called names, especially by someone he’d just tried to steal from. But the fact that he deserved it and that she surely didn’t mean for him to be enjoying it just made it worse, which made it feel better, which made it worse.

He bit his lip, concentrated on not grinding his hips against the wall, and didn’t say anything.

“You’re pathetic,” she repeated. “I should’ve known better than to think there was something good hiding under your exterior. You’re just a slimy thug without any human feeling at all, and your stupid attitude doesn’t make you tough, it just makes you even more obviously sad and lonely.”

Before he could stop himself, he groaned aloud.

She was silent for a few moments as Sebastian felt himself turn red with embarrassment. _Maybe she didn’t notice, maybe she thought it was pain –_

“Are you _getting off on this?”_ she said incredulously. “That’s…disgusting.”

She didn’t sound all that disgusted though. She sounded…curious? That was so much worse. So, so much worse -

Still holding his hands behind his back, she hooked her leg around his and flipped him. His head cracked against the floor and his vision went black for a second. In that moment she straddled his legs and leaned on his chest.

Now was the time to escape, when he wasn’t pinned as carefully, but he was weak from dizziness and hazy with arousal and she was glaring at him with narrowed eyes and his head spun with vertigo from looking up at her. She looked him up and down deliberately, her lip curling just a little, and he shivered. God, he shouldn’t be enjoying this.

“You _are_ getting off on this.” Her voice was mocking, and her mouth curled into a full-blown sneer.  “Were you planning to get caught, so you could get your creepy fantasies fulfilled?”

“No, that’s not – I don’t want you to do – no, just let me go!” He knew he sounded desperate and hated himself for it.

She tilted her head to the side. “You _aren’t_ enjoying yourself?”

To be honest, that was a difficult question to answer, but he shook his head and tried to pull himself together. “Let me go, ple- Just let me go, I’ll leave, I’ll reform myself and become a philanthropist, just – don’t _DO THAT.”_

She was rubbing her thumb along the waistband of his pants, looking contemplative. “Oh, you don’t like that? Good.”

Pushing his shirt up, she scraped her nails along his stomach, leaving red marks. He shuddered and twisted, not sure if he was trying to move away or toward her. “What are you – why are you doing this?” he said and oh god his voice came out all rough and uneven.

“Teaching you a lesson, I guess,” she replied after a moment’s thought. “And I like seeing you so sad and desperate, since you were such a cocky ass just a minute ago.”

“I’d rather you just let me go,” he tried, but she rolled her eyes.

She held her hand out flat, just barely brushing the bulge in his pants and he arched his hips, desperately trying to press up against her, but she refused to provide any friction.

“Ask me nicely,” she said, tilting her head to the side. “If someone like you has enough manners to do something like that.”

He bit his lip, refusing to play along. She had to get bored at some point, right? Maybe she’d just let him go if he didn’t give her what she wanted. After all, he hadn’t managed to actually finish the job, so no harm done to her, really.

She frowned, and then without any warning, slapped him. At the same time, she pressed her hand against him properly, a slow drag that even through his pants made him let out a noise that was half angry shout, half ragged groan.

His cheek stung from the slap. He breathed heavily and unevenly. He was more humiliated than he’d probably ever been in his life. He was also _painfully_ hard.

She shrugged and stood up, crossing over to the door. “I guess if you’re the kind of trash who not only breaks into someone’s house but can’t even say please, I’ve got no choice but to lock you in here and alert the police.”

That got through to his muddled brain. Police. Police were bad. Police looked into your identity. He might be able to get out of the house before they arrived, but there wasn’t any guarantee. He instantly changed his mind about talking. “Please.”

Smiling, she turned and walked back to him. He half sat up, scooting away from her as she knelt over him again.

“Please what?” Her fingers traced the inside of his thigh. “What are you so desperate for?”

He swallowed. “Please…get me off?” he said uncertainly, then winced. So much for dirty talk.

She snorted derisively. “Wow. Great job.”

It was rude and condescending and dismissive and it made him squirm in the worst way.

Covering his face with his hands, he muttered, “Then fucking touch me and – and keep calling me a piece of shit and everything.” Because apparently he was one.

“That’s halfway decent.” She let her hand wander up to stroke him through his pants. His head fell back against the floor and he winced when it throbbed with pain again.

And then – “Get on your hands and knees,” she ordered. His mouth dropped open, and she raised an eyebrow. “I could still call the police and let you get what you deserve.”

Hating himself more with every second, he rolled over and climbed to his knees.

She pushed his head down so his cheek was pressed to the floor. “Stay there.”

The floor was cool against his heated skin. She let go of the back of his head, but he stayed where he was, feeling the grit on the floor press into his cheek.

“Good boy,” she said, and even that sounded mocking and it made pleasure twist in his stomach again. Giving up on pretense altogether – he was face-down and ass-up on the floor, the time for looking suave was long gone – he groaned heavily and hid his face in his arms. This was the worst thing that had ever or could ever possibly happen.

He felt her kneel behind him and lean over his back, the pressure of her hips and breasts and soft stomach heavy against him. Without thinking he pushed back against her. She backed away, grabbing his hips and digging in her fingernails until it hurt. “Do you want me to finish this or not?”

“Fucking hell – “ His voice came out rough and low. She dug her nails into his skin again and he gasped. “Yes, finish it, just do it.”

“Then stay still and keep your head down.”

She reached around and stroked him through his pants. It was an awkward position, with her behind him and his ass up in the air but he was so desperate for the pressure of her hand that he shuddered and jerked his hips anyway.

“Tell me what you want me to do to you,” she repeated.

“Fucking – keep going, please, I don’t care, I’m trash I’m a piece of shit but god please – “ He was begging, on his knees and begging, and part of his mind knew how much he’d hate himself later but he didn’t _care._ He realized he was shaking, all the tension in his body and the knot in his stomach pulling so tight he couldn’t stay still anymore.

“You’ve got quite a reputation for being a liar and a thug, Sebastian Hatch,” she breathed into his ear. “I didn’t realize you were a filthy slut too.”

The tension grew so tight it broke and he came with a yell, muffled by the ground. God, she hadn’t so much as unlaced his pants. She’d barely touched him.

She stood up, the weight of her disappearing from behind him. “Now how do you feel?” she said sweetly.

Pressing his face into the floor, he muttered, “Like shit,” which was generally true. He felt like he’d just come hard without even being touched directly, all from someone telling him how awful he was. Which meant he felt like shit, but it was a very specific and horrifying kind of shit.

“Good.” He didn’t look up as she walked away. It was easier to just lie on the ground hiding his face. It was where he belonged right now. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her feet move toward the shelf, probably to pick up the statue, and then back toward the door. “I’m going to warn the police about the strange man entering my house, so if I were you I’d leave quickly.”

That got him to look up, but she was already closing the door behind her. Panicking, he jumped to his feet and ran to the door, which was unlocked, thank god. She’d already disappeared down the hall. Sebastian wasn’t worried about catching her – he ran for the exit, trying to get out as fast as possible.

Leave quickly? He was going to leave the fucking continent.


End file.
